Tales of Naxxramas
by RevengeJournal
Summary: When the dread Necropolis Naxxramas threatens the world of Auldrant, what are our heroes to do? Form a raid, of course! Who will top DPS? Who will Stand In The Fire? Read on to find out. AU ToTA/WoW Chapters 1-4 now up!
1. Prologue: All of it the Same

_Author's Note: _So, here we go. This is a joint work between the formidable OhFonverse and myself, and is going to be presented in installments. We have the beginning of a somewhat strange cross-over of universes - World of Warcraft and Tales of the Abyss. The lore for both is, of course, going to be extremely tortured. Please, soldier through it with us and we'll do our best to make something enjoyable regardless.

On that note, if you've never played WoW before - or, to be even more specific, if you've never raided in WoW before - I'm afraid that a lot of this may be lost. Still, give it a go - you may find that you like it.

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Prologue: All of it the Same

Eternity.

The barest fraction of a second, a sliver of time stretched and held until it became Forever. Or, perhaps it was every moment that had ever existed, laid out before him like a field of Nothing that was Everything. In the end, it didn't really matter. All of it was the same, here.

He had no idea how long he had been here (_How...long?)_, floating in the expanse of endless, unchanging blackness. He suspected that it was at least as long as the time that he hadn't been here _(When I...hadn't...)_, and would be exactly as long as everything that came after. All of it was the same, here.

Was it punishment, or was it some sort of release? (_All of it was the same...)_ Had he honestly been in any sort of position to judge, he would have leaned toward punishment. True, Nothing was likely far better than he deserved, or at the very least far better than any alternative. He had done momentous things - he had killed and used and tortured, he had loved and hated and had done the very best that he thought he could; he had changed the functioning of an entire world. Such things were never left without a reckoning (_When I hadn't been...)_. Nothing was a gift, an acknowledgment that he had done what he could. But what to call the retention of the tiniest drop of sentience, stretched so thin that it trembled on the verge of oblivion and yet never allowed to dissolve? Punishment, of course. An acknowledgment that he had truly done all that he could. It would be with him Forever (_How long since...). S_o, he drifted, if one could call it that, in his Nothing that was Everything. Time passed, or it didn't – all of it was the same, here.

And then Eternity changed.

It was difficult for him to tell, at first. He was so very _thin_, and he no longer had any frame of reference for...anything. He tried his best to focus, to bring himself together. Ages passed, or perhaps they didn't (_All of it the same...)_, and eventually he understood what had changed. There was...a Color. There, on the edges of Eternity, was the fainest hint of blue. He wasn't sure if the Color had been waiting for him to pay attention to it or if it was simple coincidence, but as soon as he registered it's presence, the Color expanded, filling Everything, enveloping him.

For a moment, he was almost disappointed _(All of it the very same..)_, but then he understood that the Color was the World. The blue filled him, and sent images tearing throughout his mind – the endless canopy of the sky, the inscrutable depths of the oceans, the warmth of her cerulean eyes as she gazed at him in admiration. It was exquisite torture, and he would undoubtedly have wept if that would have had any meaning. Before any of it had time to develop coherence, though, there was a Voice.

**VANDESDELCA MUSTO FENDE.**

Van's consciousness froze. He was totally unprepared for anything like this. Had someone actually..._spoken? _Unable to do much else, he waited. The Voice came again, shattering the World.

**VANDESDELCA MUSTO FENDE. HEED ME.**

The Color around Van changed somewhat. He had no way to describe it, but he suddenly felt as if he were being actively examined, as if the blue that enveloped him was seeping into his being (_What is...Eyes?...)._

**YES, VANDESDELCA. MY EYE IS UPON YOU. I KNOW YOU. I KNOW ALL THAT YOU HAVE DONE. I KNOW ALL THAT YOU YEARNED TO DO. I KNOW ALL THAT YOU FAILED TO ACCOMPLISH.**

The Color changed again, deepening and pressing in closer to everything that was Van, once again filling his mind – the sickly hue of oxygen-deprived lips, the deep violet of a necrotic wound, her clouded cerulean eyes glaring down at him in endless admonition. Van tried to push away, to send his sentience out into the expanse of Nothing once more, but the Color kept him firmly in it's grasp.

**I KNOW YOU, VANDESDELCA. TELL ME, ONE WHO WOULD...SEIZE GLORY...**

Was that...amusement he had heard? The Color changed once more, deepening further into purple, piercing into Van's mind with an urgency that obliterated all other thought. Porphyry, the color of royalty, of birth rite, of supplication; her blank cerulean eyes starting up at him in adoration, reflecting himself.

**...WHAT IS IT THAT YOUR SOUL THIRSTS FOR?**

Suddenly, the Color retreated. Everything returned to endless black Nothing, and Van floated, if one could call it that. Time passed (or perhaps it didn't), and Eternity unfolded with all of it's majesty – before, behind, surrounding Van was Forever (All of it the same, here...), implacable and unchanging.

And then Vandesdelca Musto Fende answered the question.

All around him, Eternity exploded. Amidst the fire and raging collapse, Van could make out the sound of laughter, reverberating endlessly.

At the end of it all, much to his surprise, came _cold._


	2. Chapter 1: The Last Rose of Summer

Beneath the main headquarters of the Malkuth military in Grand Chokmah, within the cold, wet dungeons where criminals and enemies of the empire were left to rot, Saphir Wyon Neis seethed. Well, the man that had formerly been Dist the Rose seethed as much as he could in his pathetic state, anyway.

Nose running down to his chin, Saphir lamented the mucus freezing to his once-perfect skin, and the matted knots in his once beautiful hair. His _hair_, lovely and flawless, and which had been the color of a pale pink rose, the sort to be blessed by the season of summer, and had been the source of his own God-General moniker. Now, all he could think of regarding himself and roses was an old folk song lyric, "and all I ask and all I pray…the last rose of summer is gone, long gone". Indeed it was, as he sat in this dank cell, arms around his knees and shivering, living in the past. The Rose was gone, wilted, crushed and left to decay, slowly fading away into nothingness.

Not that He would care. _He_ never came to visit, except for the rare occasion when He had needed some information on fontech that only Saphir's genius would obviously provide. _He_ had stood there in all of his refined and resplendent glory, serpentine crimson eyes boring a hole into Saphir's heart, and his alluring lips turned upward in his usual mocking and infuriating smirk. Much to Saphir's shame, His ravishing visage set Saphir's loins afire even _still._ The Love of his life had taken the fontech information, like He had taken _everything else_ in his life, and had left Saphir with the fallout. Oh, how he had cried afterwards.

Gazing woefully at the blank, gray walls of his prison, Saphir ceased to seethe and once again began to weep uncontrollably. This is what he hated the most. _Everything_ he had ever done in his Yulia-forsaken life had been for _Him_. He had devoted his entire life to Him, had dismantled aspects of himself just to serve Him, had driven away the only other person who had ever cared for him because of _Him_. Saphir had seared his innate compassion and softness from the very core of his being for Him, to be the better and more masterful scientist that He needed. _He_ did not value weakness. This denial of the self and subsequent self-destruction for the sake of another had included the sins of their youth: His replication of the Professor, then the countless experiments and schemes that followed in the attempt to create the Perfect Replica and bring her back- for Him. The cold and heartless experiments on both replicas and originals had had adverse effects on many- including on a certain young man named Vandesdelca Musto Fende, which had led to the destruction of Hod and the subsequent path that Van Grants took in his life. The ruination of Hod had caused _Him_ to ban fomicry, to abandon his experiments, the Professor, and even Saphir forever. _He_ had banished Saphir from His life, since as far as He was concerned, Saphir was no longer any real use to Him and was nothing but an obsessive pest. This had shattered Saphir to such an extent that he had joined the God-Generals in the Order of Lorelei, partly as revenge and betrayal against Him but also to continue in his research; in the hopes that if Saphir himself brought the Professor back that He would love him and let Saphir be by His side again…

Saphir hugged his legs closer to his chest, squeezing his eye shut. "I am so fucking pathetic," he whispered to the wall, wiping his nose on his prison uniform.

"**YOU ARE**," bellowed a deep voice in response.

Saphir yelped and jumped from his sitting position to stand with his back to the wall, shaking. A visitor? Who the hell was this?

Saphir was only able to make out a shadowy figure outside of his cell, even with his eyes as accustomed to the darkness as they had become. Apprehension gave way to pure terror as the figure stepped _through_ the bars to reveal himself- a heavily armored knight, shrouded in darkness. The figure's armor was completely black with little ornamentation, and no face showed through his helm; with the exception of his eyes which shone with an unnatural cerulean hue

. Saphir eyes wandered to the large broadsword in the mysterious figure's hand, which also was eerily glowing blue, and he shivered as he felt a desperate chill settle over his psyche.

"W-who are you?" Saphir squeaked, too terrified to even attempt playing the part of the intimidating Dist the Rose. This was one of the most secure prisons in all of Aulderant! _He _had promised Saphir that he would be safe here, in solitary confinement, away from the other prisoners, away from danger…

"**THAT DOES NOT REALLY CONCERN YOU, NOR HAVE YOU BEEN GIVEN THE PERMISSION TO ASK **_**ME**_** QUESTIONS. VERY WELL THEN, I WILL INDULGE YOU THIS ONCE, SAPHIR WYON NEIS. WHERE I AM FROM, I WAS ONCE NAMED ARTHAS MENETHIL, PRINCE OF LORDAERON**."

Saphir blinked in confusion. The name was wholly unfamiliar to him, and he certainly did not know of a Lordaeron of which this figure could claim to be a Prince. Saphir was certainly a well-read man, and yet…

"**I HAVE RELEASED HE WHO WOULD SEIZE GLORY FROM THE BINDING CHAINS OF DEATH ITSELF. I HAVE GIVEN HIM LIFE SO THAT HE MAY SERVE ME IN THE FULFILLMENT OF MY OWN GOALS IN THE FIRST OF ALL WORLDS, AZEROTH. VANDESDELCA MUSTO FENDE HAS NAMED YOU AS ONE OF HIS FAITHFUL MINIONS IN HIS PRIOR FAILED CAMPAIGN HERE IN…AULDERANT. YOU HAVE BEEN IMPRISONED HERE BY ONE...JADE THE NECROMANCER**."

Wisely casting his eyes downwards in deference, Saphir stammered in response, "W-what would you have me do, Lord Arthas Menethil?"

_The first of all worlds? Azeroth? What the hell is that? Does He know of its existence?_

"**I WOULD HAVE YOU SERVE ME, DIST THE ROSE, AND ONLY ME. ONCE YOU ARE RELEASED I WILL GRANT YOU GREAT POWER, AND WITH THAT YOU ARE TO DESTROY THE NECROMANCER. WE CANNOT AFFORD TO HAVE HIS LOT RUNNING ABOUT, UNCHECKED**."

Saphir clenched his fists and blinked back tears at the naming of his Beloved for a second time, memories plaguing him of the times he had betrayed Him in the past. He had vowed never to do so again, although it really had not been possible to on account of being locked in this cell. The prospects of great power and seeing Jade squirm were tempting, but the thought of actually _killing_ Him was totally unthinkable and brought on a sudden wave of nausea.

Saphir raised his gaze to defiantly stare into the ghastly visage of the dark knight and whispered, "I will…never betray my Jade again." Unclenching his fists and standing tall with purpose, he spoke more loudly and boldly. "I am no longer Dist the Rose, I am Saphir and I…will never cross my Jade!"

His insubordinance was met with immediate action as Arthas swiftly pointed the tip of his frosty broadsword to Saphir's throat. His cold, penetrating gaze caused Saphir to shiver and the unearthly chuckle that followed was even all the more frightening.

"**YOU…ARE A **_**FAGGOT**_".

Saphir trembled despite himself, and answered brazenly, "That may be so, but I am Jade's faggot! He is the only one I will serve. You can't have me!" Saphir lowered his eyes and his tone as he continued, "Kill me if you have to, I don't fear death." That was a lie, but he would certainly rather perish than betray Him ever again. Saphir gasped as the sword nicked his throat, eliciting more frigid laughter from Arthas.

"**NO…I DO FIND THIS…**_**AMUSING**_**. I THINK I WILL LEAVE YOU TO YOUR FAGGOTRY…FOR NOW**."

The sword at Saphir's throat then blazed with power, and in a flash of azure brilliance, the shadowy knight vanished. Saphir was forced to his knees, breathing heavily as strange sensations overwhelmed his body. Had Arthas granted him with power in spite of his defiance? Saphir used the wall behind him to steady himself and walked towards his cell door, which was now open. He was…free?

Saphir stepped outside, to find Him and begin his life of"faggotry".


	3. Chapter 2: The Dead Do Not Walk

The afternoon sun baked the streets of Grand Chokmah as the city folk went about their business, managing the blistering heat from which, thanks to the high humidity, not even shade could provide a refuge. It was a sweltering day, and each summer season had become far worse than the last due to the instability of the weather since Lorelei had been freed. The abundance of fonons in past years had helped regulate the climate, and now the people of Aulderant were adjusting to life without them.

Thankfully, Jade the Necromancer had no reason to be outside this day; or rather, he had the luxury to choose to not to be. Following the defeat of Van Grants, His Imperial Majesty Peony the Ninth had promoted him to Brigadier General, despite Jade's protests. However, the fancy new rank had its distinct advantages, such as forcing the strapping young officer who had taken his place as Commander of the Third Division to run most of his errands.

Jade stretched within the confines of his desk and yawned lazily at his stacks of paperwork. He simply was not into it today, and even with his love of formalities he could not concentrate on his administrative duties. As always, other much more important thoughts raced in his mind; such as the current conundrum of organ transplants and replicas. It was certainly easier to replicate the organs themselves, but to actually obtain them traditionally and replicate them caused so many ethical and practical issues…

His attention was diverted when he noticed an unopened envelope on his desk, addressed to him in a flowy script that he more than recognized. With a smirk, he picked it up and opened the letter within. _Oh Anise, at least some things never change_, he thought to himself, reading the letter. She wrote with her usual news and gossip about the goings-on in Daath, flirtations and cajoling for gald, with the casual mentioning that she had just turned 18 and was "so totally legal now~ ". At that, the Necromancer cleared his throat abruptly and recalled a certain- _awkward bond _- which the two had shared on their travels together. However, it _had_ been an expensive one; and he hoped that one of the benefits of no longer breaking the law would be a financial one.

His inappropriate thoughts were rudely interrupted by frantic knocking on his office door. With a deep sigh, Jade folded the letter, placing it in his pocket as he called out "Come in!" _Honestly_, it was so close to 5 o'clock too, and the Necromancer could nearly _taste_ the bottle of scotch waiting for him in the bottom drawer of his desk. This had better be good.

A youth entered, saluted hastily, and breathlessly stated his name and rank. "Corporal Rylan, Sixth Division, _Sir_!" He dropped his salute, and Jade detected a disconcerting amount of fear in the young man's eyes. "There is something going on that's very wrong, Brigadier General Curtiss!"

The Necromancer, not one to become easily perplexed, eyed the young officer warily. He wanted to believe that this was either another one of His Majesty's tricks in his never-ending quest to annoy Jade, or at the very least inane drama from the lower ranks about some insignificant matter. "Speak."

"W-we don't know exactly what it is, sir." Corporal Rylan was visibly anxious, pulling on the buttons of his uniform."Th-they came in droves, at first there was a report that they got a merchant but now…they're outside the city…and we kill some and only more come back…some men won't even fight them because they're scared witless…" Rylan began to visibly shake. "Colonel Thayil…the men…all were…" The young man buried his face in his hands with a sob, and began to pull at his hair.

Jade's previous annoyance was quickly replaced by consternation as he tried to make sense of what he was being told by the young officer. Corporal Rylan had a reputation of being a brave but shrewd young man who showed a lot of promise- the man before him was an absolute hysterical wreck. Jade knew that keeping his composure was going to be essential to getting the information he needed from the obviously disturbed Rylan.

"Who is _them,_ Corporal Rylan? Who wiped out the Sixth Division?"

Rylan looked up at the Necromancer with bloodshot eyes. "The dead! The motherfucking dead! Skeletons, ghouls and zombies and…abominations I can't even name!"

"That's ridiculous Corporal Rylan," Jade responded incredulously, waving his hand. "The dead are _dead;_ they cannot _walk_, let alone attack an entire military division."

" No, they are DEAD!" Rylan insisted, his eyes becoming wilder and his movements more frantic. "Every time a soldier fell a-a dead _fonist_…. that we have never seen before…would resurrect them as a fucking ghoul!"

The Necromancer scowled at that last comment, stroking his chin thoughtfully. _A _lich_? Here?! It cannot be…_

Rylan was shouting now, tearing at his hair. "The whole damn Sixth Division is _an army of walking dead_! And they're marching on the city now…."

"_What_?!" Jade leapt from his desk and walked over to Corporal Rylan, seizing him by the shoulders. "Marching on Grand Chokmah…_now_?!" Jade barely waited for Rylan's weak nod before sprinting out the door and careening down the hallway of the citadel, preparing for battle.

_The walking dead…a lich…could this be…..? _

_No….._


	4. Chapter 3: The Scourge

When Jade arrived at the city gates with the First Division in tow, he was shocked to see the Albiore and four very familiar, serious faces awaiting him.

"Jade, good to see you," Luke greeted him somberly, approaching the Necromancer and giving him an affectionate slap on the back. He had gotten taller and his hair was still the same length as when they had found him again in Tataroo Valley two years ago. "We had a similar invasion of these walking dead or whatever outside of Baticul and after the three of us," Luke nodded in the direction of Tear and Natalia, "wiped them out, we were afraid that the same could be happening here. We picked up Anise in Daath and came straight here."

"I see. We can definitely use your assistance, thank you Luke." Jade turned to Natalia, Tear and Anise." Good to see the three of you, too."

"It's good to see you Brigadier General~ !" Anise cooed at him, and then suddenly began to pout. Now that she was older and certainly well-endowed, the Necromancer didn't doubt she employed this tactic to get her way- or simply gald- from any respectable male in sight. "You never returned any of my letters though…"

"I am a busy man, you know, Anise."

"Well, I am busy too, seeing as until recently I was just so _underage_ and lonely…" Anise sing-songed at him wickedly. "Last I checked we had an agreement where…"

"That's quite enough for now Anise," Jade quickly interrupted, pushing his glasses farther up his nose and mentally taking note to repay her later for her blatant teasing. "Tell me the best way to wipe out this army, Luke."

Luke scratched the back of his head and scrunched his face in thought. "It happened so fast, really. Tear just used one of her fonic artes on them and it seemed to wipe many of them out at once." He glanced at Tear and smiled. "They seem to be weak to the fonon of Light. Too bad that's not around so much these days."

"That's right, Brigadier General," Tear piped up, formal as ever. "I have to say though that Holy Lance is not what it used to be, but it got the job done. Natalia helped, too."

Jade rubbed his chin in thought. The whole situation was mystifying, indeed. An army of zombie-like replicas marching on the capital he could surely expect; what he could _not_ anticipate was an army of actual zombies. He did not like the implications of this in the slightest. However, before he could share his thoughts with the rest of his companions, the very _last_ person in the world he expected to be tugging him on the sleeve was _there_, calling his name in the most infuriating manner possible. The widened eyes and sharp intakes of breath by the rest of his party confirmed his suspicions of the source.

"Jaaaaaaaaaaade," Saphir whined at him, _somehow_. "I think I know who's responsible for this…" He was abruptly cut off and instead yelped as Jade whirled around and grabbed him by the throat.

"How the _hell_ did you get here?!" Jade's features were contorted into that of absolute fury, a rare sight for the ordinarily controlled and composed Necromancer. Saphir, however, had always managed to get under his skin and provoke what little rage he usually had. Jade could not fathom how he had broken out of his cell, but he could only imagine that it had been a crafty feat, indeed. On another day, he might have even been amused and thought of ways to torture Saphir as punishment for his transgressions. Today was _not_ that day. With undead armies ravaging the countryside and about to invade the capital, Jade had no time for _Dist's _imbecilic antics.

Saphir sagged in Jade's death grip and whimpered. "Jaaaaaaaaaade…let go….you're hurting me!" He struggled, but He had always been bigger and stronger, their whole lives. His resistance to Him was futile.

"Answer me," Jade hissed, tightening his grip.

"A dark knight, not human….in my cell…calls himself Arthas something…please let me go!" Saphir sputtered, finding it very hard to breathe.

Jade gasped and abruptly let go of Saphir's throat, which caused the smaller man to fall to the ground, panting for air. "Saphir, you can't mean…the dark Paladin Arthas Menethil, Scion of Lordaeron and Betrayer of Men?!" When he nodded silently in response, Jade covered his face with his palm, knowing that the worst he had feared was true.

_That explains it, this _is_ The Scourge. But here in Aulderant? Why?_

Luke assertively stepped forward into the scene. "What does he mean, Jade? Who is Arthas?" The Scion of Lorelei's Power eyed him expectantly.

Jade regarded his companions and let out a deep sigh. _They are so young, so naive. _"Forgive me, Luke. I should not have spoken so soon." Jade pushed up his glasses and averted his gaze. "I….cannot be certain."

Saphir stood up, pouting and upset that he no longer had Jade's undivided attention. "Jaaaaaaaaaaade, he was mean. He _cut_ me, he cut my beautiful skin!" The grievance elicited exactly the response he had anticipated from Him.

"_What_?!" growled Jade, grabbing Saphir by the collar of his grubby prison uniform, inspecting him with concern etched into his face. "Where? Oh I see, here on your throat."

Saphir reveled in the attention from his Beloved until he realized that Jade was not, in fact, actually concerned for his health or well-being. "You're worried that I am tainted by His Touch," he said with dismay.

"Of course," the Necromancer responded brusquely as he loosened his grasp on Saphir's clothes. "Although I must say I am surprised he didn't slice you to bits on the spot. I would have."

Saphir crossed his arms and tightened his jaw at the insult. Why was He always so rude to him?! "He wanted me to kill you. He gave me Power to do it, too." The Rose beamed at his Shining Light proudly. "I told him I wouldn't do it though, that I could never betray you again!"

Jade ignored the final statement, as he had stopped listening at "Power". Saphir detected a familiar, hungry look in the Necromancer's eyes. "What 'Power' is this Saphir? Show me."

"Hmph," Saphir smirked, adjusting his own glasses. "You will be _so jealous_ Jade, once you see what I can now do!" He then distended his right arm dramatically in preparation for casting a spell.

Jade stared on in both fascination and horror as runes- _runes_, not fonic glyphs- materialized beneath Saphir's feet and he began to incant what appeared to be some sort of arte. Swirls of indigo began to billow around the fontech engineer as he stood with his eyes closed, chanting in some sort of unrecognizable tongue. _He's….not using any fonons at all…what sort of Dark Power has the Lich King given him?_ Jade narrowed his eyes as he felt pangs of jealousy coursing throughout his body.

Saphir finished chanting, and by his side appeared a large otherworldly being, with hooves, horns, heavy armor and a battleaxe. It looked at its master Saphir with pure disdain. "Who dares summon me!?"

"Is _that_ a demon!?" Anise gasped, hand to her mouth. The rest of her companions stood with mouths agape, too shocked to speak.

Jade was filled with both sheer envy and distress, but this new "power" of the lesser Saphir had most certainly piqued his interest. "My my, a demonologist are we? You've done it this time, Saphir." He smiled. "A Felguard too, the Burning Legion's own infantry soldiers… I'm impressed I must say, for you to summon one of these." Jade pushed up his glasses, now amused, as well. "Show me what he can do."

"What's the Burning Legion?" asked Natalia, but Jade ignored her.

"You see, I _belong_ by your side, Jaaaaaaaade. I can be very useful! With my new power I can help you defeat Arthas." Saphir then smirked a second time, running his hand through his knotted, greasy hair. "How about if I help you obliterate the undead army outside the city with my new friend, and you release me from custody. He has resurrected Van, you know."

Luke choked. "You can't be serious! Master Van is alive?"

"What?!" Tear pushed Luke and Anise aside to stand before Saphir. She instinctively pulled out her weapon and pointed it at his throat. "This Arthas has resurrected my brother? Why? He has this power?!"

Saphir bit his lip and eyed Mystearica Grants warily. _This one has always been dangerous, even He is afraid of her, sometimes._ "He told me Van could help him with his schemes in a 'Azeroth'. He called it the 'first of all worlds'."

Jade looked thoughtful, and was about to respond when he heard someone calling his name. He turned around to see His Imperial Majesty Peony the Ninth waving at him, rappigs and one Count Gailardia Gardios Galan in tow. At the sight of the Emperor, Saphir grimaced.

"Guy!" Luke ecstatically ran up to the younger blonde to embrace his best friend. "It's great to see you! You're here!"

Guy amiably greeted the assemblage, and winked at Luke. "Do you honestly think I'd want to miss all the action? It's not like things have been exciting around here, just attending Parliament and walking His Majesty's rappigs."

Emperor Peony's beautiful golden hair positively beamed in the late afternoon sunlight and his eyes gleamed like vibrant sapphires as he briskly addressed the Necromancer. "Jade, what's the situation here?" He pointed at Saphir. "Why is _he _here? And what's _that_?"

"He is not a _that,_" Saphir answered haughtily, hating the Emperor for all he was worth. "His name is Shaaghun."

Shaaghun only looked angrier at the mentioning of his demonic name. "Do not waste my time, lesser creature."

Peony waved his hand at demon and master dismissively. "Yeah yeah, whatever. I wasn't talking to you."

Jade only shrugged his shoulders, looking exasperated. "It's really a long story, Your Majesty. I have it under control. We're on our way to ambush the army before they reach the city right now. Evidently there has been a similar occurrence in Baticul and Luke has come to offer his assistance."

Peony looked satisfied. "Excellent, I knew you'd come up with a solution, Jade." He produced a bow from his back and grinned mischievously. "This time, though, you're not running off and having fun without me!"

"Your Majesty, I _cannot_ allow that. You could get hurt."

"Bullshit. You know better than anyone that I'm an awesome fighter." He snickered and glanced at Saphir. "Well, except for maybe Saphir here, who can't fight at all. Anyway I'm not getting any younger and I'm bored. My adorable rappigs here have been trained in Malkuthian- style Beast Mastery fighting, as well." He cooed at the largest of his three rappigs. "Isn't that right, my cute little Jade?"

The Necromancer began to look sick as the Emperor sweet-talked to the pet that was his namesake, and Anise giggled audibly. Jade sighed and covered his face with his palm. "Is that _really_ necessary, Your Majesty?"

"Of course it is, Jade. Now, by my orders the _Tartarus II_ is waiting outside for us. The First and Second Divisions will accompany us to wipe out this horde of zombies." Peony pumped his fist in the air. "This is going to be so _awesome_!"

Jade was not nearly so sure. So many things about this situation were just so…_wrong_.


	5. Chapter 4: Dread Necropolis Naxxramas

The _Tartarus II_ was truly a magnificent piece of work, even for a Malkuthian landship. The Necromancer had been more than pleased when Peony had rewarded him with such a practical and esteemed prize for a job well-done in helping to defeat Van and bring peace to the world. While it was still roughly the same size and had the same white color with the gold trim, the second iteration of the _Tartarus _boasted the latest in fontech from both Class M and Class I, including a new and improved security system which Jade was certain would come in useful some day. However, Jade's personal favorite was the addition of the wet bar in his rather lavish quarters, which allowed him to drink himself into oblivion if he so desired (and most importantly, hide the alcohol from the rest of the troops.) As the companions arrived at his ship, Brigadier General Curtiss felt a sense of smug satisfaction about the superiority of his landship over all of the others in Aulderant.

Certainly, for Jade being the best friend of an emperor had its advantages; even if His Imperial Majesty Peony the Ninth, although intelligent and competent, also tended to be perverted, scatterbrained and eccentric.

However, they were not to ride in the _Tartarus II_ that day.

"WHAT THE FUCK IS THAT!" Luke suddenly yelled, rudely breaking the deafening silence that Jade had been peacefully enjoying.

"Now now, Luke, you're a naughty boy, yelling and carrying on like that," Jade scolded. "I know my new ship is nice to look at, but _really_…"

"No!" Luke insisted, pointing in the air and in the direction of Grand Chokmah. "What the fuck is that _thing _over the city?! That was not there before!"

"Oh my!" gasped Natalia, clutching onto Tear for support.

Even after all he had seen and heard that day, absolutely _nothing_ could have prepared Jade for what he saw looming over Grand Chokmah. Shrouded in darkness and green slime, slowly spinning on an invisible axis as it hovered directly over Peony's palace, was a ziggurat- but not just _any_ ziggurat. "No, it can't be…" Jade uttered softly in complete disbelief.

"What Jade, you know what this is?" Peony asked him.

"No…I really can't be sure," Jade fibbed as he gazed upon the structure, eyes wide and hands shaking. _The dread necropolis Naxxramas-_here!_? We are in even more trouble than I anticipated. _

"Jaaaaaaaaaade," Saphir whined, pulling on his sleeve, _again_. "Charnagma tells me that that's a Nerubian ziggurat once used by Kel'thuzad as his base of operations in Azeroth."

Who is Charnag…._oh_," Jade replied, turning to face Saphir. Rather than flying on his old fontech chair, Saphir had apparently discovered how to summon a demon for the very same purpose. Jade studied the demon, which was large, dark blue, and very unhappy looking as he carried Saphir in its arms. "A Voidwalker, formed from the chaos of the Twisting Nether, a very paradox of life itself. How…grandiose, Saphir."

"What's the Twisting Nether?" inquired Natalia, moving to stand before Jade, who appeared to silently focus on some lint on her headband.

"I don't like this place," Charnagma told his master, as if on cue. "Send me back!"

"No, you are to fly me up to that ziggurat," Saphir commanded, pointing to the necropolis. "Do you think you can handle that?"

"It will be done," answered the demon morosely, beginning to fly away.

"Wait!" exclaimed Peony. Charnagma and Saphir waited, much to Jade's astonishment. The Emperor of Malkuth turned to the Necromancer. "Jade, that _thing_ is flying over _my_ city and these are _my_ people. I want to go up there and get rid of it."

Jade inspected the members of the party and stroked his chin thoughtfully. "Very well, Your Majesty. This is most likely a very dangerous place, but I think we are prepared with this group." He smirked. "After all, we have Tear, and healing is very important."

"I am a trained healer and a master of Lanvaldearean archery," Natalia huffily reminded him, crossing her arms and scowling.

"Ah yes, I suppose you could call it that," Jade answered, turning his back before the silly protests began. "In that case, Your Majesty, we ought to command the First and Second Divisions to stave off the horde of undead while we investigate the ziggurat. I'll tell Colonel Kepler to lead the troops into battle. After that, Charnagma will be flying us _all_ up there, I'm afraid."

A few moments later, Jade the Necromancer was stepping through translucent green portal together with his companions into the dark necropolis. The first thing that he became aware of was the _cold_, bitter and still. The next was Natalia tearfully shrieking "ASCH!"

When Jade happened to look, he saw the_ impossible_- the original Light of the Sacred Flame and Scion of Lorelei's Power, resurrected; and he looked absolutely _furious._


End file.
